


New Game

by ChubbinLovin



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Consensual Kink, Food Kink, M/M, Mild humiliation kink, Teasing, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChubbinLovin/pseuds/ChubbinLovin
Summary: Rin's casual hobby of streaming video games takes a sharp left turn when he starts receiving anonymous donations and some peculiar requests.((Weight gain/fat kink fic; don't like, don't read.))
Relationships: Okumura Rin/Shima Renzou
Comments: 11
Kudos: 155





	New Game

**Author's Note:**

> Another Twitter comm that I had a lot of fun with! 
> 
> (And is very very overdo)

Another day, another stream. Rin had made a pretty decent hobby out of it recently, especially considering he had never really intended it to catch on the way it did. He wasn’t massively well known, but he’d garnered enough attention to make a bit of pocket money here and there.

As his modest little gaming channel’s follower and subscription counts went up, and he started receiving more donations whenever he went live, he made more of a habit out of it. He was a college student taking part-time classes, and he had a dorm room to himself, so it wasn’t hard to find the time to dedicate to it.

He had a fun, vibrant personality that entertained and charmed a lot of viewers. Most watchers just liked to sit and laugh at him fail the same level over and over again, only to rage in some humorous way or another. More dedicated ones tuned in every time he started to stream and donated a handful of dollars. It was a nice experience for someone like him, a bit of an outcast among his normal peers, save for his three high school friends.

That day he was logging on with his usual eager grin and a wave into the camera. He adjusted the mic on his headphones briefly before picking up his controller and trying to decide what he wanted to play. Despite knowing he’d only get his ass mercilessly kicked, he picked a new fighting game that had just come out.

He was mediocre at best at the game, whereas longtime fans of it already had it nailed. Frustrating as it was, he found it made for good content that even he could laugh at in hindsight. So he picked his character and logged into his first online match. As expected, he faired poorly.

But the comments and lively chat made it enjoyable. 

About thirty minutes into the stream he had to pause, feeling his stomach growl. He couldn’t quite hear it through his headphones, but he had a feeling that the sensitive mic might’ve picked it up. That was kind of embarrassing, but he he didn’t think about it too much. He just returned to the game’s menu and picked up his phone.

“Sorry guys,” he said as he punched in an order for some pizza delivery. “Just getting some food on the way before I starve to death.” He punctuated the statement with a casual laugh. 

It was a pretty common occurrence lately, ordering some kind of cheap, fast takeout online. It was more convenient than having to stop his stream altogether to cook something, and it was usually something he could easily munch away at in between matches or levels. Luckily most of his viewers didn’t seem to mind. Most of them were patient with, and even encouraging of, his “snack breaks.”

That day a new, odd trend started. Odd, but not necessarily unwelcome. He was halfway through a stream and halfway through his large pizza, pausing every few minutes to fill his mouth to capacity with fluffy dough and gooey cheese. It the most efficient way to eat and multi-task, using the split second to glance at his chat window just as he got an anonymous donation.

The message was short and simple, and punctuated with a little heart emoji:  _ I’ll donate two-thousand yen if you eat the whole thing. _ Like most donation messages, he read this one out loud, only to pause for a moment and raise a curious brow. Admittedly it wasn’t the  _ strangest _ request he’d ever received. The internet was full of oddities, he’d quickly found.

He just shrugged, accepting it as a simple dare. “I was gonna save some leftovers,” he mused with a little smirk, “but challenge accepted.”

Twenty minutes later, the pizza box was empty save for a few grease stains and flecks of buttery, garlicky crumbs. He’d just downed the last bite, licking his fingers clean and leaning back a bit in his chair. Suffice to say, he was pretty full; he was a bit on the scrawny side, to his own chagrin, and didn’t often overeat like that.

He breathed out a little huff of a sigh, one hand rubbing lazily over the subtle bloat of his normally flat, angular stomach. “I think I’m gonna have to call it here, guys. I’m so full I can barely keep my eyes open,” he laughed sheepishly. “Thanks for watching!”

He’d almost forgotten about the dare he’d taken altogether thanks to his stuffed, sleepy stupor. Just before he logged off for the evening, though, he got one last-minute donation. There was no actual message attached to this one, just a row of pizza-slice emojis, and another heart. He was surprised to see the amount: five-thouasand yen.

In the grand scheme of things, it really wasn’t a lot compared to big-time streamers. It was easily the biggest number he’d ever received in a single donation though. And for such an odd request too. That is, if it was the same anonymous viewer as before. Who else would it have been though?

He didn’t think much more about it once he’d shut off his computer and stood up from his desk chair and prepared to go to bed. A groan rose in his throat as he stretched up, raising his hands into the air to arch his back a bit; the resulting, sharp pang in his stomach reminded him of its full capacity. 

Both hands lowered to it to rub little circles into either side of the bloated swell, pouting a bit at the ache he felt. Then he shrugged; nothing a good night’s sleep wouldn’t cure. Sure enough, the moment his head hit the pillow he was out like a light. He didn’t often have trouble falling asleep, but the heavy drowsiness that came with his full stomach definitely helped speed things up.

* * *

The trend continued, slowly at first. Every few streams he’d get an offer or request similar to that first one, and always with the promise of a moderate donation. Rin wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity like that: getting paid to eat? For someone who loved food as much as he did, it was a dream come true. 

It was kind of nice to have an excuse to eat bigger portions too. As someone who’d grown up having moderation and manners pushed on him his whole life, being nudged in the opposite direction was kind of refreshing. Finally he could indulge a bit without a side order of guilt; his inner glutton was allowed to come out, and he wasn’t going to question it too much.

After a few weeks of this, he couldn’t help but notice a steady increase to the number of viewers he had per stream. Those numbers added to his followers, and to his donations with food-related requests attached. Anything from offering to pay for him to order takeout, to asking him to eat a full pint of ice cream the next time he went live.

A s if the attention wasn’t enough to motivate him, let alone all the food he was being allowed to enjoy, the donations became more and more generous the longer he kept the pattern up. Some streams ended up with him doing more eating than actual gaming, but nobody seemed to be complaining. Certainly not him; he sucked anyway.

Not once did he think there might be consequences for his consistent overeating. When his jeans took a lot more tugging and shimmying to fit over his hips, he hardly stalled. He just figured they’d shrunk, or maybe he just needed to break them in a bit after being overly comfortable in sweats all weekend. When a hint of belly fat started to accumulate and sit in his lap, he didn’t notice.

His first hint was a donation that popped up one day. It was a pretty small amount, not that he minded, but it let him know immediately that it probably wasn’t one of his regulars. He was in the middle of losing a tense match when he glanced away for a split second to look at it. His double-take was enough to distract him entirely and end the match in his competitor’s favor.

_ First time tuning in for a few weeks. You got kinda chubby, dude, lol! _

He blinked owlishly at the message, one that he luckily hadn’t read aloud like he often did, just out of habit. His eyes automatically flicked to the chat, only to feel his face go a few degrees hotter when he saw it explode with their commentary. The conclusion was pretty unanimous, much to his chagrin.

_ I think you’re right! _

_ His face does look a little rounder. _

_ Right? It’s so cute! _

_ He’s always eating on stream. _

_ It was only a matter of time before he started getting fat. _

“I-I’m gonna quit early for the night,” he stuttered out, as if he could play dumb and act cool, like nothing was wrong. The crack in his voice and visible redness on his face definitely didn’t help his cause though. Without his usual sign-off, he shut down the stream and tore his headphones off. 

At first he rubbed his hands over his burning face, as if to try and cool it with his palms. Then he peaked down through his fingers to see a little, pudgy fold starting to dip into his lap over the snug elastic of his sweats. That was…  _ new _ . Or was it?

One hand still cupped his cheek, noting that maybe it  _ did _ feel a little rounder than before, while the other fitted against the roundest part of his stomach. He’d polished off a box of store-bought cookies not long before ending the stream, so he was a little full. Surely that was the only reason he looked so chubby.

Rather than taut and stiff, like he was expecting, there was a subtle, squishy give to his flesh, one that made him chew gently at the inside of his lip. Maybe he had gained a little weight after all. (Just maybe.) He went from timidly rubbing and prodding to gripping a small handful of pliant flesh and giving it a tentative squeeze.

Okay. Fine. He’d  _ definitely _ gained a little weight.

The weird thing was that… well. He didn’t really mind it. Not as much as he probably should’ve anyway. Rather than feeling annoyed or ashamed, he actually felt kind of… good. Warm and fluttery, even a little excited. Sure, it was embarrassing too. He could still feel heat pulsing in his cheeks; weirdly enough, that made it even  _ more  _ exciting.

Still, he told himself that he should cut back on the strange, food-related requests before things got out of hand. It was probably fifteen extra pounds as it was, and on his skinny frame, that was  _ a lot _ . Any more than that and his followers weren’t the only people who might start harassing him about his expanding waistline.

His resolve lasted for all of two days. The requests and donations were just too frequent to ignore, as well as his own cravings. He’d gotten accustomed to snacking on sweets and carb-heavy snacks during his streams, if not a full, hefty meal. Each time he partook, he insisted it would be his last; that soon graduated to a shaky “twice a week” limit before dissolving altogether.

Having to struggle into his pants had evolved into barely being able to get them to button at all. His shirts were starting to cling to and ride up over his protruding tummy as it softened and rounded out more and more. People at school were starting to notice, including his small circle of friends. 

“That freshman fifteen is really hittin’ you quick, Okumura,” Shima remarked slyly one day at lunch, having noted his friend’s generous portions from the campus’ cafeteria. “What, are you storin’ fat for the winter or somethin’?”

Rin nearly choked on his thick mouthful of stir-fried beef and noodles, feeling a familiar heat rush to his face, then to the pit of his stomach. He’d hoped none of his real-life peers would notice, but that ship had clearly sailed. It was only a matter of time, he supposed, considering the notable belly he’d begun to sport.

“No!” he barked back gruffly. “My stuff just shrank in the wash. It’s this school’s shitty washers’ fault!”

Bon snorted skeptically, but offered no real remark. Koneko avoided Rin’s expectant glare, as if the blue-eyed boy was hoping for some backup. Shima, on the other hand, just smiled with a glimmer of mischief and shrugged his shoulders.

“Whatever you say, Okumura.”

* * *

Rin huffed softly as he leaned back in his chair, stifling a hiccup with his fist while the other hand rested on his full, rounded belly. “Alright,” he conceded, “that’s my limit. I can’t eat another bite.” He didn’t even feel like he could hold his controller without insistent stomach pains demanding his hands’ attention instead.

Before he could properly announce the end of his stream, a few similar messages popped up in his chat that piqued his interest. Almost all of them asked, in one way or another, for him to show his stomach on camera. The idea made him swallow thickly, and he could hardly believe he was even considering it. Just for a few donations?

Part of him supposed he should have a little more dignity (or would it be considered shame?) than to stoop that low. This had already gotten pretty weird as it was. The other part of him argued that maybe this wasn’t for donations anymore, at least not entirely. Maybe it was for himself.

As he considered his next move, he also considered when his modest gaming channel had devolved into… whatever this was. It had all started with one message. One donation. One large pizza. Funny how things worked out.

He sighed and rolled his eyes a bit; he couldn’t believe he was doing this. “Fine, ya freaks,” he muttered, struggling to sit up enough to reach for his webcam and tilt it down a bit. He scooted his chair back so the view wasn’t obscured by his desk. “Happy now?”

Blocks of heart emojis erupted in his chat, and a few donations all came in in succession, some anonymous and some from his regulars. His eyebrows raised a bit in surprise, his lips parted and cheeks flushed. What in the actual hell was happening here? He was pretty oblivious, but not so much that he hadn’t begun to realize that  _ something _ was up. Something  _ kind of weird. _

And he was  _ totally into it _ .

He caught a glimpse of his webcam’s view in a separate window on his screen, and the sight made his mouth go dry. This was an angle of himself he’d never seen before, and it really put things into perspective. The way his stomach spilled into his lap and poked out from under the hem of his shirt was almost  _ obscene _ .

His audience was in fact  _ very _ happy. And, in some sick way, so was he. When he signed off for the night, he didn’t immediately get up out of his chair. He wasn’t sure he could even if he wanted to. Instead he left his webcam on and kept its window open, watching it capture his hands rubbing over and sinking in and out of his pudgy, stuffed gut.

It shouldn’t have made him hard, but it did. His chest squeezed when he lifted the hem up to show his bare skin, noting a few pale stretch marks beginning to spread over the lower half of his belly. Maybe he was gaining more than he thought, and  _ faster  _ than he’d thought too. He remembered what Shima had said about his “freshman fifteen,” and couldn’t help but muse it had to have been a lot more than fifteen pounds by that point.

That thought sent another hot pulse southwards, and he shifted his hips a bit in his seat. The abrupt motion made his stomach wobble stiffly, and his breath caught for a split second. Fuck, that hurt. And it was hot.  _ Why was that hot _ ? 

One hand cupped his budding belly fold to lift and roll it in his palm, while the other reached below to struggle beneath his sweats and palm at his boxer briefs. He seethed quietly, a shuddery breath quaking in his lungs. It felt really, really good. So good he felt he should’ve been ashamed of it.

Part of him was, his lip trembling as he squeezed at his squishy muffin-top. Was he seriously getting off on gaining weight? On getting  _ fat _ ? Apparently so, considering he was on the edge without even really touching himself, at least not directly. A little, shaky moan rose in his throat.

“ _ Goddamn _ ,” he huffed, leaning further back to give his stomach more room in his lap, finally fishing underneath his boxers for his dick. It throbbed needily in his grip, his hips stuttering when he first started to stroke himself up and down. “Oh f-...  _ fuck _ …”

He finish in an embarrassingly short amount of time. And he came  _ hard _ too. His back arched and his teeth grit, jolting and shuddering as he came in his pants like a total wimp. He sank so deep in his chair he almost feared he’d slip out of it in a boneless puddle, and the most he could hope for was that nobody on the other sides of his walls had heard his pitiable whines and repressed groans of ecstacy.

All of a sudden, he had yet another vice.

* * *

After that, things escalated more than he ever would’ve admitted. Now he no longer waited for donations to start binging on a stream; they just naturally came, and he gorged himself while pretending to play a game in between snack sessions. He’d started zooming in on his face and looking into the camera now, just so his viewers could get a better look while he stuffed his face.

His channel was something entirely different than when he’d begun; most followers he’d had at the beginning (save for a few) had left by then, only to be replaced by nearly twice as many new admirers. He’d finally come to terms with what was really happening now: it was the only word that could summarize it, really. These people were  _ admirers _ , and he was, essentially and accidentally, a cam boy.

The idea of doing something so risque (and the idea of someone he knew finding out) only made it more fun. He just hadn’t expected it to actually  _ happen _ .

The sun was setting, and he had maybe half an hour left in his usual stream time. “I’ll take one last request before I sign off,” he said while he held his controller and pressed lazily at the buttons to drudge his way through a tricky boss level he didn’t actually care about. “First come, first serve. Or maybe I’ll go with the highest bidder?” he added with an amused scoff.

It had been a joke, but there actually was something of a struggle. He cut it off after five minutes so as not to waste any more time. The winning donation came with the request that he drink a full two-litre in one sitting, if he had one on hand. In fact, he knew Shima had just bought one for a little dorm-party he was planning that weekend. Rin could just pay him back or buy another one the next day.

“Be right back,” he told his chat as he got up, lingering a bit and pretending to stretch while his webcam got an eyeful of his pudgy stomach dipping out over his elastic waistband. He made a quick trip down to the community kitchen as fast as possible (and as sneakily as he could manage) to snag the two litre and return to his room unspotted.

“You’re in luck,” Rin said with a little grunt as he plopped back down in his desk chair and started to twist the cap off with caution so it didn’t explode everywhere. Once again his controller laid abandoned on his desk, one hand moving the webcam to get a bette angle of him while the other balanced the jug on his thigh. “Well, here goes nothin’.”

He leaned back a bit in his chair and lifted the bottle to his lips, starting to chug mouthfuls of the sugary, fizzy liquid. His throat bobbed and his brows pinched slightly, each gulp visibly making his stomach expand a bit. He’d already done a good deal of snacking as it was, so this was just pushing his limits further.

About a third of the way he had to pause and take a break; he was struggling a bit to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling shallowly as his mouth hung open to gasp in air. A little stream of soda slid from his lips and started to drip down his chin, only for him to swipe it away with his tongue.

“ _ Mmf… _ hope your happy,” he grumbled after stifling a quiet burp that managed to sneak past. “Already feel like I’m gonna pop.”

But he didn’t stop. After brushing a bit of hair from his eyes and shifting the waistband of his jeans down a bit to sit under his swollen gut, he continued to guzzle from the mouth of the bottle. Normally he would’ve changed into sweats, but he’d been so eager (having fantasized about his coming stream all throughout his classes) that he’d skipped that step of his ritual.

He was starting to regret that he had. His pants were always tight now, but at that very moment they burned and dug into his skin. In particular, the button straining under his stiff muffin top. Tipping the two litre back further and forcing himself to down the last few swigs in one go, he let his other hand cup his belly as if to support its weight.

He should’ve unbuttoned his pants, but two things stopped him. For starters, the tightness of the fastening would’ve made it impossible to undo with one hand. The other was the simple fact that  _ he didn’t want to _ . The more he heard the stitches strain and groan under the heft of his gut, the more his heart pounded and his erection pulsed.

It happened so fast he almost missed it. Those audible wines only got louder and more pronounced, until they were finally followed by the whip-crack noise of plastic snapping, then the loud tear of his zipper being forced apart. His belly bounced forward and wobbled stiffly in his lap, free of one confinement and quickly spilling out of the other, a shirt that already had holes stretching open at a few of the seams.

A sharp gasp caught in his throat, followed by a hiccup as he tried to hold back another little burp. “H-Holy shit,” he stammered out, practically throwing the empty plastic down as both hands flew to the ruined fly of his jeans. He tried with little effort to make the two sides meet, only for his belly to squish and bunch obstinately between his wrists. “Maybe you guys’re right.” He swallowed thickly, giving his stomach a little bounce. “Maybe I am getting fat.”

With that, he signed off for the night and continued onto the usual “self-care” segment of his bi-nightly routine. He didn’t get far, having just rolled up his shirt to start stroking over the smooth, taut dome of flesh. Each touch was as soothing as it was stimulating, and he groaned in annoyance when he was interrupted by a text message. 

Initially he intended to ignore it and respond when he wasn’t  _ preoccupied _ . It went off a second, then a third time withing the next minute or so. He growled, leaving one hand on his gut while he struggled to sit up and snatch his phone off his desk. “The fuck do you want…?” he muttered under his breath as he opened up the message thread. 

It was from Shima.

_ Hey man, did you steal my soda? Not cool! _

_ Dude, I'm not mad, just tell me if you took it. _

_ Answer me, fatass! _

Rin gulped, about to try and fumble out a clumsy, one-handed response; it was entirely automatic when he pressed softly between his legs with the other as he re-read the word “fatass” over and over in his head. Before he could manage anything coherent, he noticed the little bubble in the corner indicating that Shima was typing again. Rin’s heart nearly stopped when he read the next message.

_ That’s it, I’m coming over. If you’re asleep I’m gonna be pissed _

Rin wanted to hop out of his chair and lock his door while he had a chance, but the weight in his gut and overall lethargy made it impossible for him to even sit up straight. He held his breath when he heard a loud knock at the door, barely a second-and-a-half passing before he heard the knob twist and the door squeak open.   
“Streaming again?” he heard Shima ask, the floor creaking under each of his steps closer.

“Ah, y-yeah,” Rin lied, inching closer to his desk to avoid Shima seeing over its backrest. “J-just give me a minute.”

Wait a minute.

Had he ever even told Shima about his stream? 

His epiphany came a second too late, and Shima was pulling his chair back from the desk before he could protest. Admittedly he had a bit of difficult, thanks to Rin’s weight, but he finally managed to spin it around.

His brown eyes widened a bit, his jaw going slightly slack when he saw Rin in his entirety: blushing deeply, blue eyes nervous and dilated; his lips futilely trying to attempt some kind of excuse; his belly exposed by his lifted shirt and taking up a good third of his lap. A split-second glance at the floor (and the empty soda bottle lying on its side) was enough for Shima to put two and two together.

“G-get out of my room!” Rin barked defensively, only for his cracking voice to ruin the effect altogether.

Shima seemed to consider this for a moment, blinking owlishly before standing up straight. At first Rin started to breathe a little sigh of relief when he shrugged just slightly and turned back towards the open door. Instead of walking out into the hall though, he closed it, locked it, and leaned his back against it as he crossed his arms. A little smile spread on his lips, and his eyes were hooded mirthfully.

“ _ I’ll donate two-thousand yen if you eat the whole thing, _ ” he said with a slightly raised brow, taking a few long strides closer.

At first it took Rin a moment to understand, his brows screwing together in confusion. Then he blinked owlishly when it clicked. How did he know about that? He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Best investment I ever made,” Shima concluded, answering Rin’s unspoken question. He let his hands brace against either armrest of the chair, leaning down until he was hovering over the pudgy, raven-haired young man. “Too bad I missed today’s stream… looks like it was a fun one.”

Rin gulped as he squirmed helplessly in his seat. Even his ass had swelled and fattened a bit by that point, and to the degree that his chair was starting to hug and cling to his widening hips. “What-...  _ it was you _ ?” he finally fumbled out, baffled and barely registering any of it. 

“Well,” Shima mused, lifting one of his hands to cup Rin’s budding tit and pinch it between his fingers, then slide down to press his palm into the crest of his belly. “I can’t take  _ all  _ the credit. You’re  _ adoring public _ helped a lot. A guy like me can only give so much, but at least they picked up my slack.”

Rin’s brain was smoking with its gears’ desperate efforts to keep up, stalling and stuttering with every new piece of information. “H-... how much have you seen?” he asked in barely more than a whimper, almost afraid to know the answer. Either way, he was still screwed.

Shima grinned, pressing harder into Rin’s fizz-bloated belly and forcing him to cover his mouth to stifle the burp forced out by the added pressure. “Let’s just say I tune in whenever I can… which is pretty often. We have about the same class schedule, y’know.”

It made sense, and yet it seemed just as unlikely. What were the chances that Shima,  _ of all people, _ would’ve found his stream? And even more exasperating was the fact that he was apparently into some pretty kinky shit. Yeah, Rin had accepted it: he had a kink. But someone to share it with…?

He didn’t realize how much he’d wanted that until it had almost literally fallen into his lap.

“You’ve fattened up really nicely, Okumura,” Shima remarked as if he was talking about what a sunny day it had been. His grin widened smugly when he noticed Rin squirm and flush darkly upon hearing that. “I just feel lucky that I’ve gotten to watch it in action, and not just through a screen. Had my own private, front-row seats.”

Flattering as that was (bizarre, but flattering), that caught his nervous attention. Sure, this was working out in his favor, and much,  _ much  _ better than he ever could’ve hoped… but what about  _ other _ people? Who  _ else _ had found him out? If he was lucky, nobody. Nobody that he knew personally, anyway.

“So… you’re the  _ only  _ one that knows... r-right?” he asked with a cautious optimism, his head lolling a bit as Shima kept giving his aching belly all the attention and affection he could’ve wanted. It felt even better than his own hands, but he tried to stay alert until his worries were put to rest. “Nobody else has… they haven’t seen?”

Shima shrugged, mischief lingering on his expression as he gradually started to crouch down between Rin’s thighs, outstretched widely to give his gut as much room as possible. “Not that I know of,” he began indifferently, his thumbs digging into Rin’s soft underbelly while his palms gently lifted it off his busted fly. “But who’s to say? Y’never know what people are into. I mean… was pretty surprised when  _ you  _ started getting into it.”

Shima raised his eyes, a knowing smile spreading on his lips.

“I-it was just what people were asking for,” Rin lied defensively, as if he could somehow worm his way out of this. As if he actually  _ wanted _ to worm his way out in the first place. “It’s not my fault a bunch of sickos started followin’ me…”

“Sure,” Shima replied dismissively with a little roll of his eyes. “And you seriously had no idea what was going on? Even  _ you’re  _ not that dumb, Okumura.”

Rin’s brows furrowed indignantly. “What’s  _ that  _ supposed to mean?”

Shima just couldn’t stop grinning, as triumphant as he was mocking. “It means you’re just as much of a sicko as the rest of us, and you know it.” He gave Rin’s belly a little wobble in his hands, causing him to writhe and whine in discomfort. “Why else would you have let yourself go like this?”

Rin could think of a couple excuses: that he hadn’t noticed, or maybe that he just hadn’t cared. Neither one was true, and he was running out of energy (and the want) to argue much longer. “You did this, asshole,” Rin muttered stubbornly, but couldn’t help but purr contentedly as Shima started peppering kisses over the crest of his gut. “S’your fault…”

“I can live with that.”

* * *

Needless to say, Rin’s streams continued as the weeks passed by, just as they had before. Well, they weren’t  _ exactly _ the same. Not always. Every once in a while he’d have a special treat for “special subscribers.” A private stream that only his most dedicated followers had access to. 

In these streams he was usually sitting in his chair, a tall, male figure standing by him and feeding him copious amounts of food. It was always carefully cropped so his new partner-in-kink could stay as anonymous as possible; even when the skinnier male stooped to start fondling and praising Rin’s bloated, fattening belly, he tilted the camera further down before doing so in time to keep his face obscured without cutting the show short.

Rin groaned, looking down into Shima’s face as its lower half was blocked from sight by his stomach. A hand fisted into his short, pink hair as his partner reached under his heavy muffin top to playfully start stroking him through his sweats, the other hand keeping busy and finding its way back to his love handles. A shuddering, whimpering groan escaped him, much to his humiliation. He sounded pitiful, putty in Shima’s merciless hands.

Fat, warm, squishy putty.

Shima was only visible up to his chin, the camera just barely catching his lips and teeth as he pecked and nibbled at Rin’s supple flesh. He was unbelievably full, stuffed to capacity with a two burger meals, each with large fries and a milk shake. He moaned as his stomach ached, his own hands resting at the crest of the taut dome. “Mnn,” he breathed, each inhale and exhale a chore, his belly having grown so much that it hid half of his wide lap. “M’so full… I doubt I can even get up…”

“Good thing you don’t have to,” his partner mused, his soft voice the only clue to his identity. Even that was kept to a low, secretive murmur that the mic could just barely pick up. Those words were meant for Rin and Rin alone, his eyes meeting his feedee’s slyly. “I think it’s time we wrapped this up, anyway.”

Rin was about to protest (though without much fight behind it) when Shima stood up and waved into the camera just as he blocked it with his palm and cut the live feed short. He turned to his partner, his round, flushed face pouting with a lazy belligerence. He crossed his arms lightly, at least as much as he could without weighing down his aching stomach.

“We still had ten more minutes,” he pointed out weakly, his drooping eyes giving away his drowsiness.

“I was getting bored,” Shima retorted nonchalantly, returning to his original place between Rin’s thick, fat thighs. “And impatient. Don’t act like you aren’t too, Okumura.”

Rin maintained the begrudging look on his face, but his blue eyes flicked away as he found his resolve crumbling. Yeah, if he was honest, he was ready to get on with  _ their _ “private session.” He uncrossed his arms only to reach for the elastic waistband of his sweats to try and start shimmying it under his wide load and down his thighs.

He didn’t make it far before the band began to strain and whine, only for him to feel a sudden looseness joined by an abrupt  _ snap _ that seemed to hang in the air and echo for a few seconds. Rin flushed as heat pooled in the pit of his stomach, looking down at the fabric stretching taut across his lap. Not only had he just busted the elastic apart, holes were starting to stretch open at the seams of his sweats.

Even his loosest, most forgiving clothes shredded around his impressive mass. At least, his old ones; he’d long since had to update his daily wardrobe, but he held onto everything that didn’t fit. “Just in case,” he told his other friends, as if to imply he might attempt at losing the near-impossible amount of weight he’d managed to put on in less than a year.

Obviously that wasn’t going to happen.

The last time he’d stepped on a scale (for a little teaser clip to put on his channel), he’d weighed in at almost two-hundred and sixty pounds. By now, he was probably working his way up to the three-hundred milestone, if he hadn’t reached it already. The thought alone, compounded upon by yet another virtually destroyed garment, was enough to have him squirming with arousal.

“Damn,” Shima remarked, stooping down to try and help Rin as he struggled with the sweats. “Almost wish we’d kept the stream running. Then I could watch that over and over again.” He added that with a sly look up at Rin just as he was tugging his sweats and boxer briefs off his ankles.

“Did you actually shut the camera off?” Rin asked with a weak, breathy curiosity. “Or just the stream? It might still be recording.”

With a pleasantly surprised raise of his brows, Shima turned briefly towards the camera. Now his face  _ was _ visible, but he found he didn’t mind. Instead he just smiled back up at Rin. “Good. Now it can catch all’a this. Y’know… for later.”

Even if Rin had been opposed to that (which he absolutely wasn’t) he wouldn’t have had a chance to voice as much. Shima didn’t hesitate before using both hands to try to push and lift Rin’s heavy gut enough to find his cock and tend to it with his mouth. His face buried into Rin’s underbelly, his partner’s full, plush thighs squeezing around him. 

He could’ve suffocated there and died happy.

Shima started bobbing his head, noting the way the motion (and his hands’ ever shifting hold) made Rin’s stomach wobble and shake stiffly. All the while Rin’s jaw lolled blissfully, his eyes barely staying open as he gasped and whimpered with need. His hands kept busy too, rubbing and pushing into the upper roll of his belly. He finally had proper rolls now, and even perky, soft breasts that shelved on top of them.

When he and his childhood friends started college together, he never thought he’d end up almost doubling in weight, or that one of those friends would be a driving force behind it.  _ Or  _ that the same friend would be sucking him off underneath all that extra eight he’d put on. He covered his mouth to muffle a particularly embarrassing moan, if not just to save any of his dorm mates from having to hear it.

“Gonna come, fatty?” Shima asked smugly after popping off Rin’s dick for a breath. He swirled his tongue over the tip before briefly sucking on the head. “You’re so fucking easy, I almost feel bad for you.”

Rin gave Shima an offended yank on his pink hair, all but forcing Shima back into his fat. “That ought’a shut you up,” he huffed haughtily, biting his lip. “Now hurry up… I need’a come so bad it  _ hurts. _ ”

On another occasion, Shima might’ve used that snippet of info to his advantage, opting to hold back and torture Rin while he had the chance. He knew full well that he could’ve left Rin high and dry, since it was getting hard for him to touch himself when he was full like this. He could’ve been so cruel.

Luckily for the feedee, he wasn’t in the mood for that at the moment. Like he’d said: he’d gotten impatient. “Fine,” he muttered, running his tongue from the base of Rin’s dick all the way up his shaft. “Spoiled brat.”

“Kinky freak,” Rin bit back shakily, barely even able to do so as Shima went down on him once again. And once again he had to cover his mouth to stifle his pleasured emissions. “Shit,” he gasped, his hips bucking as much as they could, weighed down as they were. “F-fuckin shit, don’t-...  _ don’t stop _ …”

Shima wasn’t exactly the “model-student” type, but he always finished what he started. He bobbed faster, taking in as much of Rin as he could manage, both in his mouth and in his hands. At least until he had to reach down to start tending to his own throbbing hard-on, grunting a bit around Rin’s cock at the extra weight added onto him without the support.

_ So heavy _ , he thought, unable to voice it as he kept working his lips and tongue over Rin’s shaft. By then he couldn’t keep his own eyes open, probably as close as Rin was, if not catching up. He moaned around Rin, the purring vibrations adding an all new sensation for his partner. 

By most standards, Rin was a pretty extreme guy. His orgasms were no different. He often arched, kicked, spasmed and screamed. Honestly, Shima used to think he was just playing it up, but no. He was  _ actually  _ that dramatic. Rin had to grit his teeth and cover his mouth just to muffle his cries, and the jerking of his hips nearly gagged Shima.

Hearing and tasting his partner’s climax, Shima reached his peak as well. Not to mention the quivering wobbles of malleable flesh against his face and in the hand still keeping him from getting buried entirely. Only when he’d sucked Rin dry and finished himself off did he slide off and lick his lips, his chest heaving for breath.

Rin slumped in his chair, the seat groaning under his shifting weight. His chin doubled slightly with the knew position, his jawline having begun to blur into his neck. “Fucking hell,” he panted, wetting his lips and squeezing his eyes shut as he started coming down from his high. “Why d’you have to be so good at that?”

“You’re really complaining?” Shima staggered a bit when he got to his feet to retrieve the nearby box of tissues, cleaning himself off before standing over Rn and cupping his chubby jaw. “I wouldn’t if I were you. With all this in your way...” He paused to grab and shake a fistful of Rin’s belly where it was still soft and jiggly. “... I’m savin’ you a lot of trouble. And if you keep packing it on, I’ll be your only hope of getting off at all.”

Rin’s eyes fluttered open and glossed over a bit, a shamefully excited shiver running up and down his spine. “M’not  _ that _ big,” he argued, despite just how much the notion warmed his core and sent a new pulse of arousal southwards. “Quit exaggerating.”

“If you’re ‘ _ not that big _ ,’” Shima goaded, “then get up and haul your own fat ass to bed.”

There were two things keeping Rin from doing just that: his lethargic heaviness, and the fact that his chair was hugging possessively around his ass. “You-... y’know I can’t,” he mumbled gruffly without meeting his feeder’s eyes.

“I rest my case,” Shima said with a smugly gleeful smile, walking around Rin to start pushing the rolling chair over to his bed. He helped balance his partner as he wriggled and popped free of the chair and stumbled onto his mattress.

“Ugh,” Rin grunted as he tried to get comfortable, the mattress screaming underneath his heft. “That stupid chair’s too small. So’s this damn bed.”

“Yeah,” Shima patronized as he climbed onto Rin’s lap, framing his swollen stomach with his slim thighs while his hands ran placating circles into the drum-tight skin. “The fact that your ass has its own gravitational pull has nothin’ to do with it.”

“I liked it better when your mouth was full,” Rin remarked with a dull scoff, then repressed a yawn. The familiar haze a post-orgasm food coma was coming on, and he was losing what little fight and pride he had left.

“And I like when yours is full too,” Shima snarked back cheekily.

The two were comfortably quiet after that. Eventually Rin’s labored breathing evened out, the husky boy starting to snore softly. Once he was convinced his partner was out like a light, Shima slid off his lap and curled up beside him to get cozy and rest up himself. He stole one last stroke and a lingering squeeze to Rin’s lowest, doughiest belly roll. 

He finally dozed off, looking forward to repeating their routine again soon.


End file.
